Saying Goodbye
by klipdoctor
Summary: The Last Ship. Set after the fateful events of 2x13. Everybody is trying to deal with the death of someone close to them.
1. Chandler

_I was watching Season 5 of the Last Ship and it's sad to see how badly it compares with the first two series. For me the decline in LS stems totally from the decision to write out Rhona Mitra and go in a different direction from Season 3. I've seen series survive writing out key characters before, but LS wasn't one of them. I reflected that neither we the fans nor the characters ever really got a chance to say goodbye to Rachel Scott and that's how this story came about._

 _I do not own The Last Ship._

 **Chandler**

Tom Chandler rested his head against the wall outside the medical bay. He didn't know how long he'd been here, sometimes dozing, sometimes awake. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. Worrying.

He should have been sleeping. But instead he was sitting outside Nathan James' sickbay waiting to hear whether the woman he respected and cared for more than any other might have a future.

They both should have been sleeping. Enjoying a rare full night's sleep after four months of almost constant stress. _Well_ , he supposed, i _t was four months for me_. _It was many more months for her_. Sometimes when he thought about it, he didn't know how she could be as strong as she was.

Because Rachel Scott had literally had the fate of the world on her shoulders. For nine months, he supposed. How terrible must it have been for her, as more and more labs went off the air, to realise that it was her, and her alone, who was the only person who had any chance of finding a cure and saving the world?

As he was used to working as part of a team, so was Rachel. She was a Medical Director at the Centre for Disease Control. She had told him once that there had been seven other people in her immediate team and lots of others all over the world that they worked with. Each of those had fallen away, leaving only Rachel and Quincy Tophet to find a cure for the whole human race. And there was no denying who had done most of the work and had most of the responsibility among that pair.

And he hadn't known. Not until that October day when she had told him about Phase Six and what that meant. When his whole world had come crashing to the ground.

But she had already lived with that stress every day for four months. And every day for the next four and a half months as they all tried to stay alive while she found a cure.

And then she had. And she had cured his family and many others. And they had thought that they'd won. But then the Immunes had destroyed the labs. Killed most of the remaining scientists. And she'd had to start again. To find a cure that didn't have to be manufactured. That could be spread with no infrastructure.

And she'd done it again. And instead of thanking her for doing it again he'd been obsessed with how she'd done it. How she'd killed Niels Sorenson to make the cure. Not that that son of a bitch hadn't had it coming. He'd told her she'd have to pay for what she did and as he'd looked into her eyes at that moment, he had known that what he'd done would be difficult to come back from.

But they'd come back from things before and he had thought that maybe they could again. As he saw it at the time, he had needed to punish her to convince the crew and himself that the United States, the system that they served and believed in, still existed. That murder was wrong. Even murder done for the right reasons.

And he still believed that they could come back. Tonight had proved it to him. Her eyes had told him that they could when they'd finally parted. But only if they had time. And time was the one commodity that now it seemed they didn't have. And he had wasted so much of it.

They could have had weeks together, if he hadn't been so stubborn. If he hadn't been so stubborn, maybe they would have been sleeping in the same bed tonight. She wouldn't have needed to have gone off to her own room. Wouldn't have needed to get away from him at all.

But she had left tonight and as he'd shut the door and as he leaned against it cursing himself again for a coward and wondering why he couldn't just tell her what she meant to him, a single gunshot had rung out through the hotel and in that second he had known it was her. Not thought, or worried. He had known.

As he slammed the door open and ran in the direction in which she had headed, he tried to clamp down on his fears. He turned the corner and cannoned into a man by the emergency exit and barged past him, pushing him through the door and then he rounded another corner. And there was a sight he'd never get out of his mind. Rachel lying there in a pool of blood.

He had run over and knelt down and seen the wound in the right of her chest. Dark red arterial blood was pouring her abdomen. The amount already pooling around her told him it was a serious wound. He shouted for help even as he pressed on the wound with his hands as hard as he could. Her eyes flicked open as he shouted again for help.

"Sir! Sir!" It was Green, rounding the corner with Halsey in front. Unsurprising that the SEAL was the first to get there. He had an ear for trouble and the dog must have heard the shot.

"Green! Get help!" he shouted, "Rachel's been shot. Secure the President."

"Aye aye!" Danny called as he turned around and sprinted back the way he had come, and Tom had leaned closer to Rachel, knowing that Green would take care of it.

"Tom…" her voice was weak and he had to lean close to hear it.

"I'm here Rachel," he had told her, seeking to reassure her. "You're going to be fine."

She coughed, blood frothing on her lips. _That's not good_. A small portion of his brain told him. She was trying to talk again.

"I'm sorry," she managed.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he told her gently, meaning it, "it's my fault."

"No," she whispered hoarsely, twitching her hand as though to hold his. He so wanted to hold it but knew if he took his palms away from her chest she could bleed out.

There was a rumble of running feet and he knew help was here. Rios stormed around the corner followed by Green and Milowsky. The docs paused at the scene, but recovered themselves and rushed to kneel at his side.

"What happened sir?" asked Rios.

"Single gunshot wound to the right upper abdomen," he stated, knowing this was important, "I was here within a minute, but she's lost a lot of blood and she's got frothy blood on her lips. I've applied pressure to the wound and the bleeding's been slower. She's conscious."

"OK sir, we'll take it from here," Rios told him as Milowsky's hands took over applying pressure. He leaned back as Rios leaned in, "Rachel, can you hear me?" he called. Tom looked down at his hands. Covered in blood. _Rachel's blood_. He couldn't take his eyes off it. It wasn't the first time he'd seen blood. Of course it wasn't. But to have the blood of this woman coating his hands. I failed, he thought.

"Sir?" Green was at his elbow, pulling him gently away.

"Tom?" It was Mike. "Tom?" Mike's voice was louder, "did you see the shooter?" How could they ask him about this when the woman he loved was bleeding to death on the floor, "TOM!" his eyes snapped up as Mike shouted in his face.

"N-no," he stammered, shocked, "but I did bump into someone by the fire escape," he remembered.

"Green," ordered Mike and Danny turned and left, already calling for his team. In the semi-privacy of a dead end in the corridor Mike closed the distance between them and seized his hands, "Tom," he gritted out, eyes wide and focusing on Tom's, "we need you. The crew need you."

He stared at Mike, fighting to focus. Fighting to function. Mike was right, but it was oh so hard. "The President?" he asked to give himself some time.

"Safe," replied Mike, "worried about the Doctor." He paused, "So is the crew. There are no hospitals here so we're taking her back to the ship. As soon as she's stable, we'll move her. Andrea and the Chief have gone back to get everything sorted."

"Sir?" It was Rios. The docs had been working while they were talking and now Rachel's dress was cut away and dressings covered her upper body. They both turned.

"We've stabilised her as much as we can for transport, but she's asking for you." The Doc's professional poker face slipped, "Be quick Captain, we need to move her as soon as it arrives."

He bent down next to her, Mike looming over his shoulder. She was very pale, eyes closed, breathing shallowly, her lips almost blue against her white face.

"Rachel, I'm here" he told her, gripping her hand.

Her eyes flicked open, "Tom," she murmured, looking behind him, "Mike," the edges of her mouth creased up, "the dynamic duo."

"Rachel," came Mike's voice over his shoulder, "you look like shit."

Tom was shocked, but she smiled for a second before a cough wracked her. "Still prettier than you," she murmured. Blood dribbled down the side of her mouth and Milowsky dabbed it away gently with a tissue. He shared a look with Mike as the hoarseness of her voice and the deep red arterial blood registered.

"Glad you're….both here," she told them, seemingly oblivious of the effect her efforts at talking were having on those around her, "wanted to thank you…the crew…"

"Thank _US_?" he rasped, stunned. _What did she have to thank them for. This woman had saved their lives. Their country. Their world._

Her lips quirked up again, "Never had a family… not really," she murmured, closing her eyes, the effort of speaking too much, "the last few months it felt like I did…". He was pleased her eyes were closed so she couldn't see him crying. From the sounds of things he wasn't the only one.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Doc had closed it down at that point, insisting that Rachel shouldn't be talking. They had rushed her out of the hotel into a waiting chopper and back to the ship. He had come with her but had been exiled to the corridor outside the operating theatre where he had sat for hours while they fought to save her life. And he hoped and prayed. Because he didn't want to imagine a world without the crazy, stubborn, complex force of nature that was Rachel Scott.

He knew he should be taking care of his crew. Mike had been down a few times and told him that most of the crew were back on board, hoping, praying, waiting for news. They just wanted to be there for her, as she had been there for them.

Then the door to the medical bay opened.

 _A/N: I haven't written any fiction in a long time. I'm laid up after an operation at the moment and had a week off and this wouldn't get out of my mind. It's 9 chapters including a two-part epilogue._


	2. Slattery

I do not own The Last Ship

 **Slattery**

At the beginning I wasn't that impressed with Rachel Scott. It takes a lot to break into my circle of trust and I couldn't ever imagine a situation where she would. How wrong I was.

When I was first introduced to her at Norfolk she was very professional but totally focused. The only interaction I had with her was with regards to co-ordinating her travel arrangements every day and access to some of her materials that were stored elsewhere on the ship. I was quite happy to get on with my job and she was happy to get on with hers. If you had to deal with civilian passengers on a Navy ship, then I guess that was probably the best you could hope for.

Then it all changed. When I found out that not only had she been lying to us, but that my family was endangered because of this red flu and my son was dead, I saw red. How could this self-involved, prissy little science bitch sit there and tell _us_ what to do when my family was hurting? I knew Tom would put her back in her place because I knew Tom. He was reliable and he was stubborn and he was honourable.

And then she got Tom on her side. And more than that - Tom told me I had to toe the line.

That hurt. But deep down under the hurt I wondered what it was about the science bitch that impressed Tom, because something had. The Tom Chandler I knew wouldn't have put his trust in a science bitch without there being _something_. Even if it meant saving the world.

And little by little I began to understand what Tom saw in her. Because Rachel Scott was fighting a war, just like we were. She was working as hard as we were, harder in fact. She was in that lab for 20 hours a day. She ate in that lab. Sometimes she slept in that lab. When she bothered to sleep. And she was honourable. And she was caring. And she wanted to help.

The first crack in the wall was Gitmo. When she offered to go to the beach to help our team. She didn't have to do that. It's not like she owed us anything. She offered because it was the right thing to do and because she cared. It's difficult to keep hating someone when you know that one of your sailors is alive because she risked her life to save his.

And then there was the lock down. And the Captain's revelation as to who Rachel Scott really was. That she had devoted her life to helping others. To scientific research against viruses. That she had fought the bureaucracy and the Government to be here. That she had done the right thing.

And I knew then that blaming Rachel Scott for my predicament was blaming the wrong person.

Don't get me wrong. Rachel was a nightmare to work with. The woman just could not stay out of trouble. Even if she wasn't currently in trouble it seemed that she would do everything she could to get herself into it.

Like when the Captain was taken by the Russians. They wanted her in exchange and she volunteered. I told her that she was too important to go but she batted down all my counter arguments. I don't know if it was the academic background but she had this way of making what she said sound totally reasonable. God knows, I shouldn't have let her go, and with what happened afterwards when we tested the vaccine, it was a good thing she didn't get hurt or killed because we never would have been able to make the vaccine work without her, but I let her go.

And despite being terrified, she showed a fine understanding of the tactical realities of the situation. But even I nearly shat myself when she told me that she planned to pass the note to Tom by kissing him! I wasn't the only one – I thought Green was going to pass out. Interestingly, Foster didn't seem to bat an eyelid. We didn't quite make breakfast the next day, but after she was back (and Tom finished reaming me a new one for risking her) I sought her out because I'd decided in that moment that Dr Rachel Scott had managed to butt her way into my circle of trust. Because anyone who volunteers to put themselves into the hands of a Russian despot to save their shipmates totally deserves to be in my circle of trust.

And I never regretted getting to know Rachel better. We met regularly after that day and I think I helped her to get over killing that Russian officer and I got to know Rachel Scott as a person and not as the saviour of humanity that she is now remembered as.

Rachel was a pretty unique human being. Hyper intelligent. Four degrees for Christ's sake! Driven. Focused. We all knew that. But what Rachel kept hidden away and that you only saw if you were lucky enough, was a warmth and compassion that was totally at odds with the sometimes cold, aloof image she presented to the outside world. And she also had a sense of humour. A dry, sarcastic and often downright vicious sense of humour.

But one thing that really surprised me is that Rachel was pretty underconfident. Maybe we didn't see her at her best. Having the future of civilisation hanging on you for most of a year probably isn't great for your mental health. I often wondered what Rachel was like before the red flu. And I really wonder what she would have been like afterwards. And if anyone deserved to find that out, she did.

I also wonder what Tom would have been like. Because there's no doubt he changed that day as well. He tried really hard to get himself back on track, but the day Rachel died I swear a part of Tom died too.

I was on the bridge when he walked in through the door that morning. It was uncanny. We'd been on that tin can for over ten months. We all had wanted nothing more than to get off it. Everybody had quarters on shore but when we heard that Rachel had been taken to the ship everybody, and I mean everybody, needed to be there. We mustered something like 200 at that point and 184 were back on board. All waiting, all hoping.

I didn't need to look twice at Tom to know it was bad news. There was that crushed look that I'd never seen on Tom before. But I knew that look because I saw it in the mirror the day that Christine told me that Lucas had died and for many of the days afterwards. That barely holding it together look.

He looked through me as he went up to the 1MC. I'll remember his announcement for the rest of my life.


	3. Green

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Green**

Danny Green looked up from cuddling Kara as the Captain's voice came over the 1MC. They were sitting together in the wardroom waiting for news. Had been for hours. He'd left Burk on shore to make sure the President was secure and deal with the aftermath but, after what happened, Kara had wanted to get back on the ship to find out how Rachel was doing. Having seen what Rachel looked like and the amount of blood on the floor as the medics rushed her to the ship, Danny wasn't confident. He'd seen enough mortally injured people to know that Rachel's life hung in the balance.

This should have been the best night of their lives. It had been at the beginning. Kara had accepted his proposal, they were going to get married and have a baby together! He had asked her in front of their shipmates and she had said yes. Snogged him right then and there in front of all of them. Definitely a yes. He was on a high as he shook off the last hugs of congratulation and made for the bathroom to get a bit of air. It had been stressful, but he'd finally got it done. It wasn't like he hadn't been planning it for ages. Like he hadn't secretly asked Kara's Mom. He was worried that she'd let the cat out of the bag with her goodbye, but they'd managed to skate over it enough to fool Kara.

He'd just got out of the bar with Halsey when it happened. A bang. It sounded like a gunshot. Halsey heard it too. He barked and set off at a run with Danny only a few steps behind. Up the stairs to the third floor where he could hear someone shouting for help and then they ran straight into a blood bath. He didn't even need the Captain to tell him to go and get Doc Rios, he was already turning. He had brought the docs back and when he had explained it to them obviously the rest of their group had heard and had followed them up. They'd all stood there in the corridor, waiting for news, until they'd rushed Rachel back to the ship.

So, they'd followed her back because she was their shipmate and she deserved their support. And now they sat here waiting for news.

"Attention Nathan James, this is the Captain." Danny had never heard the Captain sound like that. Even when his kids were in danger in Baltimore the Captain had kept it together but now his voice sounded just empty, desolate. Kara sprung upright, as did Andrea who had been dozing by the table and Tex, who had been pretending to sleep on the sofa.

"It is my sad duty to inform you that Dr Rachel Scott died at 06.32 this morning. She died of complications associated with a gunshot wound…." The Captain paused for a beat as though trying to collect himself as Kara leaned her head against his as if to share the pain, "After Rachel was shot, she asked Commander Slattery and myself to pass on a message to the crew." Another pause as Danny looked at Kara, wishing he could take away the tears and hurt from her eyes, "She asked us to thank you. She said that she'd never really had a family but that for the last few months it had felt like she had…" here the Captain paused, and it was clear to Danny that he was desperately trying to keep his voice steady, and not entirely managing. "It was the last thing she said….She never regained consciousness." There was a long pause and then the XO's voice came on, "Please bear with us as we see to the arrangements. That is all."

Danny looked at Kara. Even though in his heart of hearts he had already known what was coming he hadn't believed that the force of nature that was Rachel Scott could really be beaten like this. His fiancée looked bereft and he swept her up in a tight hug.

"No," she moaned, and his heart went out to her, knowing that she and Rachel were good friends. They met often for what Kara called "Girl Talk". He tried to make soothing noises as she dissolved in tears for the third time tonight. He would do anything he could to take away her pain, to take away all their pain.

They both looked up as the sofa scraped the floor as Tex stood up.

"Where are you going?" Kara asked through her tears.

"I need to get some air," he returned, not stopping. Nobody tried to stop him. Everybody on the ship knew that Tex had had a bit of a thing for Rachel but that she shot him down in flames.

Kara was still crying and he held her as best he could, trying to comfort her. Just focusing on her and her needs. Eventually Kara stopped crying, then sniffling. She tensed in his arms.

"What?" he asked her.

"We need to go and be with Rachel. She shouldn't be alone." She told him. He looked askance at her. "What do you mean?" he asked, wondering if he should point out to his fiancée that Rachel was dead. "You don't understand Danny. The last few weeks of solitary confinement. Not allowed in the wardroom, the mess decks. She hated it. She was so lonely. She'd just started to fit in and that was taken from her. They'll leave her on her own down there and she shouldn't be alone." She looked pleadingly at Danny, then at Lt Commander Garnett. "You understand Ma'am, don't you?"

"I'm in," replied Garnett, rising to her feet and moving for the door, "I'll just go and put my uniform on and meet you there."

"Uniform, ma'am?" Danny queried, wondering if he was the only sane one here. The engineer was already wearing her dress blues.

"To honor her memory," replied Garnett, "Rachel saved our country, and the world, after all. She deserves a proper guard of honor."

"Yes," sniffled Kara, "if anyone deserves it, she does. She was our shipmate. And she wouldn't want to be alone. She's hated it the past few weeks."

"Are you sure about this?" he asked Kara.

"Yes," she replied, "she doesn't deserve to be alone and I don't want her to be." He could see where she was coming from, where both of them were coming from.

"OK," he replied, "you go down to the medical bay and I'll go and change and then I'll join you." _If we're going to do this, he thought, we're damn well going to do this properly. I better talk to the Master Chief._


	4. Foster

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Foster**

I feel pretty shit to tell you the truth. Rachel saved my life three times over. Once in the vaccine trials, once by inventing the vaccine in the first place and once in Baltimore. And she saved my Mom's life, and Danny's and the Baby's. And everybody left in this country and around the world. And we couldn't save hers. It hurts.

What really hurts is that this should be the best time in my life. We finished our mission, we saved the world, and Danny even proposed to me. Those nearest and dearest me even came home alive, or so I thought. Until now.

I think I was one of those that realised the earliest that Rachel wasn't the enemy in our little war. When she was in the CIC at Gitmo and she told us she was just following orders I thought that perhaps I was being unfair to her. When she volunteered to help Cruz on the beach, even knowing the risks, I _knew_ I was wrong about her. I resolved to start making amends.

We've been friends since then. There aren't too many women on a Navy warship and we stick together, certainly us commissioned women. When the dust settled from Gitmo and escaping the Russians, I made an effort to go and see Rachel and get to know her. I found a woman who literally had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Literally they were very narrow but figuratively they were the broadest I've ever seen (and that includes the Captain who is one of the best I've served under). It was clear Rachel is a bit of a workaholic, and while I can understand that given the stakes, I've spent most of the duration of our friendship trying to get Rachel to take breaks from that lab. We've met for coffee or tea for short 15-20 minute intervals and I've introduced her to my friends and peers, mainly Alisha and Andrea, hoping to help her build out a social life on board. And I think it helped her.

I wouldn't say Rachel is socially inept, but she's very, very driven and focused, and she's also very direct. But every woman enjoys a bit of girl talk. It was hard pulling Rachel out of her shell but even if it took a few months we got there. And it was worth it for all of us. Being in uniform is different from being a civilian. We have a very strong code of discipline and also an honor code that most civilians just don't understand. The military works because everybody does their thing and Nathan James is more than the sum of its parts because of that.

We were all surprised to find out that not only did Rachel have a very strong honor code, but actually she also followed orders. She told us she lied to us about her mission because she was following orders from the President of the United States. You can't get better than that. And she was a very honorable person as well. She would put her life in danger (and did) for her shipmates or sick people. I found out that she worked for Doctors Without Borders, helping people in horrible parts of the world. I know people might say that she murdered Niels in cold blood so how could she have a code of honor? But actually I think it was her code of honor that drove her to kill Niels. And, unlike the Captain, I won't be crying any crocodile tears over him.

I'm not in a position to criticise the Captain, given how brilliant he's been towards me and Danny over the baby-thing and promoting me to TAO as well, but I _was_ disappointed in his reaction to Niels' death and in how he treated Rachel as a result. He took away her support structure just when she needed it. She was in pieces after the second brush with the Russians when she killed that guy and she needed support after Niels' death as well. I've spent as much time as I can with her, when my duties permitted, over the past couple of weeks because she was really struggling. I know Andrea has as well.

Poor Andrea. She's lost so much. First her kid and now Rachel. Rachel was really there for her when we got back from Norfolk. She helped and supported her. And then when Chung was killed she reached out again. They were an interesting couple. Andrea's not particularly demonstrative but she really cares for her people. Losing Chung was tough on her because he was almost like a son to her. Rachel wanted to be there for her, although she was already in solitary at the time. Andrea spent time in the lab with her by pretending to fix the junction box.

I still can't believe she's gone. After the Captain's announcement I told Danny I didn't want her to be alone. When Andrea talked about an Honor Guard that hadn't really been my first idea. I just didn't want Rachel to be on her own. Danny ran with Andrea's suggestion and it became something bigger than I had expected or intended.

It's now the fourth day since Rachel was shot. This is the last time I'll get to spend with my friend. I've spent time with her every day since she died. Thinking, remembering, mourning.

Tomorrow she'll be buried on the waterfront at St Louis. Where we landed and where the contagious cure was spread for the first time. The President was insistent that it should be there. Almost under the arch. I'm not sure about the positioning because I think Rachel would rather be with people but I suppose she'll be with the memories of people. And I suppose that's symbolic because she'll be in our memories as well.

I'm with Andrea for this shift. We haven't said anything. We're just alone with our memories. Andrea's Honor Guard has become a big thing.

When I arrived in the medical bay that morning, Doc Rios was just finishing up cleaning up Rachel's body. He looked up when I came in. Wolf and Doc Milowsky had been helping him operate on her but they were nowhere to be seen. He looked up at me questioningly. I could see the pain on his face. He and Rachel were professional colleagues. He'd worked with her on many operations and vice versa, trying to patch up the injured.

"I just wanted to be with her," I told him, "she hated being alone the last few weeks, and I don't want her to be." I half expected him to argue with me, but he nodded his head.

"I understand," he told me, "Let me just finish cleaning her up and I'll move her next door and leave you alone."

I was surprised, and it must have shown, "She was my friend too you know," he told me as he cleaned blood off her face, "and I know how much she treasured your friendship. She often spoke of you." I was surprised again, "and we often give time for friends and loved ones to say goodbye," he said, lowering his eyes as I could see tears springing into them, "which probably means the whole crew will want to come…" he finished.

"May I hold her hand?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, clearly losing the battle with his tears, "I'm going to go next door for second."

I reached for his hand as he went past, "Doc?" I called, and his eyes snapped to mine, "she cared for you too," I told him. "Thanks," he told me brokenly, "but I couldn't save her." He squeezed my hand, released and moved towards his dispensary. "But you tried your best," I called after him, "and she was a doc as well. She wouldn't blame you." And I knew she wouldn't. "It's not your fault she's dead. It's the man who shot her." I hoped my words would help him. I truly believed them.

When I picked up Rachel's hand it was cold, and Doc had closed her eyes. This body was so different from the warm, vivacious Rachel I knew with sparkling green/brown eyes. They had sewed up the wound on her shoulder and covered her modesty with a blue sheet. She looked somehow more relaxed though in death. I could still see the bottom half of her dress protruding from the sheet. She looked so beautiful in that dress but she hadn't liked it. Who knew? It turned out she didn't like dressing up!

I had only sat with her for 20 minutes when Danny arrived in full dress whites. I looked askance at him.

"If we're going to do an Honor Guard, we're going to do it right," he told me. "She deserves that. I've spoken to the Master Chief and he's putting together a schedule."

And he had. All of the crew have taken their turns on the Honor Guard over the past four days. Taken their turn to say goodbye. Some of them twice or three times. And it hasn't just been the crew. Some civilians, and even the President took part. Although two people were with Rachel at all times and one of them was always from the Nathan James.

The President has decreed that Rachel will receive a full state funeral. We, the crew, have been told that we'll have an important role in the funeral ceremony itself and we've been practising to make sure we get it right. I can't be a pallbearer because of my pregnancy but the Captain has agreed that I'll walk with the coffin.

I'm pleased about the state funeral because Rachel deserves it. I know I'm not the only one who feels that way. The crew petitioned the Master Chief to ask if a Nathan James cap could sit on her coffin and it's been agreed. We know she wasn't in the Navy but she was our shipmate and that's all that matters.


	5. Nolan

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Nolan**

Tex couldn't believe that Rachel was actually dead. While it was true that Rachel had a penchant for attracting trouble, this was supposed to be the endgame wasn't it? They had succeeded against all the odds. Now it was time to enjoy their "happily ever after".

Sure, he had reconciled to the fact that that his "happily ever after" wouldn't include Rachel as his girlfriend or his wife. He'd gotten over that a long time ago. It was clear that Rachel's heart belonged to another, even if Tom Chandler was too focused on the mission to ever think about that. He'd had one final try when Chandler had stuck Rachel in what amounted to solitary, but it was clear her heart wasn't in it, so he'd gone back to plan B. Plan B was that Rachel Scott still made a damn fine friend and he knew, as a friend, she'd go to the ends of the Earth for him. And he would for her. He'd tried to reassure her after the Sorenson thing that he still believed in her even if Commodore Tom was being a bit of a dick, and he thought that she'd appreciated it.

But having struck out, he knew he had other things to get on with and he'd resolved that he needed to go and get Kathleen. He was so happy that she was still alive and so happy he'd been able to introduce her to Rachel. He'd hoped that Rachel could be a big sister figure for Kathleen. Lord knows she needed that sort of relationship. And Rachel seemed to be really happy to take that on, until she was stolen from them before her time.

Tex was no stranger to death. He'd seen a lot of people die during his time in the Armed Forces and as a "contractor" for private and not so private organisations. He'd even killed his fair share himself. But the fact was that Rachel did not deserve to die. She still had so much left to give.

Because Rachel was so much more than the scientist who'd invented the cure and the method for distributing it. Rachel was a medical doctor as well as a virologist and you didn't have to know Rachel well to know that she was one of the most compassionate and caring people that you would ever meet. In one of their frequent chats where he took her food in her lab (cos, let's face it, Rachel wasn't the best person in the world at taking care of herself) he'd drawn out quite a lot about Rachel's life prior to her involvement in the mission.

He'd been surprised to find out that Rachel was almost as well-travelled as he was, and actually better travelled in Africa. He'd done a lot in the Middle East and they'd compared notes on the sub-continent of India and Pakistan, but she'd been to many more places in Africa than him.

When he'd asked her about growing up in England she'd told him, quite snippily, that actually her mother's family had lived in Wales, and then mentioned how British people (especially Welsh and Scots) get really annoyed about how the rest of the world thinks England and Britain are the same thing. He'd promised never to do it again!

She also told him that even though she'd now spent more years out of the UK than in it over the course of her life, she still thought of herself as British. She said her parents were missionaries and, apart from holidays, she didn't live in Britain til she went to boarding school at 11. Then she did her first two degrees there. He had asked how many degrees she had, and she had replied that she had four in all! That was a lot of degrees and emphasised, if he needed it, that she was far and away the smartest person he knew.

But she wasn't an egghead. She'd mixed a lot of real life in there. She told him she had done her medical elective in a trauma ward in South Africa and had spent a year with Doctors Without Borders in a trauma ward in Mogadishu, and she talked about working in Colombia. He'd been to some of these places and he knew they were no gravy trains – she must have been very good at her job to survive there.

He'd been invited to the funeral planning group. He hadn't really wanted to be, but nobody really had, and it was thought that his perspective from his friendship with Rachel might yield some of what would be her wishes. About the only thing he'd been able to volunteer was that he thought she would like a part of the ceremony to be British. They'd searched around St Louis and they couldn't even find a British Flag to cover her coffin. In the end they'd had to make one.

He was so lucky that Kathleen was there for him. She'd only known Rachel for a few days but she understood that he was in pain and she'd been his rock. They'd all lost so many friends and loved ones over the past 10 months. On the ship they'd just had to go forward each day and get on with the mission. He knew Rachel would want him, all of them in fact, to go forward but he was so tired of burying friends. _Hopefully Rachel will be the last one. Unfortunately I don't have that sort of luck._


	6. Jeter

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Jeter**

I stand here at attention next to my shipmates on this beautiful spring day in St Louis and I know that I would rather be anywhere but here and doing anything else but this. But life is not about what we want. Life doesn't do what we want. It does what it wants and we just have to deal with that and move forward as best we can.

I don't want to be here doing this because today we are burying Dr Rachel Scott. Rachel Scott, the beautiful, brilliant, British force of nature that came into our lives less than a year ago and has been by turns, hated, tolerated, revered and loved by the ship's company of the USS Nathan James.

Aside from in the line of duty, I haven't had much direct contact with Rachel during her time on board. While I think that she, of anyone, may have benefited from some spiritual support during her time on Nathan James, she hasn't sought me out and I didn't seek her out. I don't know why I didn't, but she always seemed so self-contained and in charge that I didn't think she was likely to open up to me. Besides I know she had her friends on board who supported her, like Lt Foster and Lt Commander Garnett. If I didn't know about that network then I think I would have tried to get to know her. But I always thought there'd be more time. And now there isn't.

Most of my knowledge of her is second-hand, mostly from the Captain and the XO, who deal with her regularly, and through those members of the crew that she's come into contact with.

I have enormous respect for Rachel Scott. She must have been a very strong person to shoulder the burden of being the only one who could find a cure for our world and not have buckled under that strain. Seeing her around the ship it's become clear in recent months that her and the Captain had formed a special bond. At least until the Sorenson situation.

It's not a surprise that the Captain and her bonded in that way. I've known Captain Chandler for several years and he's all about duty. Duty to this crew. Duty to the US Navy, the US people and, just as importantly, to his family. And Doctor Scott was all about her duty as well. It started out as duty to the world, but the turning point was when she started to identify with people in the crew and include them in her duty as well. I think that started round about Gitmo.

In addition to that, the Captain's role on a US Navy ship is a very lonely one. The Captain has the support of the officers and crew, but he needs to remain aloof from them as well. The Captain can't be one of the guys with anyone on board his ship. He needs to remain separate and as well as that he needs to be in control and, more importantly, keep the semblance of control, at all times. When you toss in his duty or responsibility as well that makes for a lonely life. On this mission, with all of the Captain's domestic support structures like his wife and family and the chain of command removed it must have been horrific.

But if you think about it, Doctor Scott was going through the same thing. How could you be more lonely than as a scientist on a ship full of Navy sailors, a Brit on a ship full of Americans, the only one who can develop a cure once your own support structure has gone entirely black?

And of course, the last thing is Honor. Because both the Captain and the Doctor have that in spades.

And I think they recognised kindred spirits. After they got over a few speedbumps I think they became vital support structures for each other. Because Doctor Scott was outside the Captain's chain of command, she was probably the only person on the ship he could reveal himself to and they have both been diminished since the Sorenson fiasco.

But the President pardoned her, and we were moving forward, and I was genuinely excited for both of them because if anybody in the world deserved a "happily ever after" it was the doctor who discovered the cure and the captain who ensured that she had the time and resources to do so. I thought they would patch it up and take it from there. I was wrong.

When I heard the Captain's voice over the 1MC that night, I knew I needed to talk to him. I've never heard a man sound so broken. But I had a duty to the crew on the Mess Deck to support them and be with them. And then Lt Green arrived with his suggestion and everybody wanted to proceed with that. I feel so bad for the crew. Most of them haven't even had a chance to mourn their own family and friends, and now this has happened.

When I finally arrived at the Captain's cabin it was late-morning. He had gone into a meeting with the President and the XO almost directly after the announcement and this was the first time he was free. The XO had sought me out after that meeting and we both agreed I should speak to the Captain. Cdr Slattery gave me a quick sketch of what the current plans were, including the fact that it would be a state funeral. The planning group for the event would meet up later that day and would include some of the St Louis local government, myself and some others of the ship's officers.

I'm glad I went to see the Captain that morning. He wasn't right then and he's not right now, but he will be. His family is here now and I know that's a comfort to him. He was on the ragged edge that morning. He didn't open up to me then but, as I had with the President, I didn't force the issue. I just told him I was there for him when he was ready.

He was ready that evening. I was surprised it was so soon to be honest, but I'm glad it was. He told me that he felt he hadn't done right by Rachel. He felt that he had put her in an impossible situation by forcing her to interact with Niels Sorenson and then he had been unduly harsh with her. I couldn't deny that I thought he had, and I told him so. Tough love is always better than prevaricating. He confessed that he was starting to have feelings for her but had wanted more time after the death of his wife. I couldn't blame him for that. I told him that I felt the feelings were mutual. I'm convinced that she had feelings for him as well. He expected to have all the time in the world, but it wasn't to be. He asked how I had got over the death of my wife and daughter. I told him – one day at a time.

He's in front of me now, accepting the folded flag from the flag party. The President insisted that he should receive it on behalf of the Nathan James crew. He's lost himself in his duty. He's better, but it'll be a long time until he's well. I think that's true for all of us.


	7. Michener

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Michener**

Jeffrey Michener hadn't known Dr Rachel Scott very well. But he'd been looking forward to getting to know her better. What he did know of her, from chatting with the command staff of the Nathan James and from the evidence of his own interactions with her, was that she was a very focused but private individual who had a breath-taking compassion for those around her. While she was very forthright when riled, the Rachel Scott that he had met was modest and unassuming in private and just very, very focused on doing her duty. And, as she saw it, her duty was saving as many people as possible.

He had had a few meetings with Doctor Scott in the seven days between the Nathan James' arrival and what was supposed to be a celebratory ball. Some had been private and some had been public. And, of course, he had had the chance to observe her when the Captain dumped them on shore when he had gone off to fight the submarine.

He was actually surprised at how alike the Captain and the Doctor were in their own ways. He wondered if that's what had brought them together. Not that they ever had had the chance to be truly together before her death, but he had felt they could be.

The Captain was a good man and the Doctor had been a good woman. He had been surprised, given the Captain's stance on what the Doctor did to Niels Sorenson when, in one of their final meetings on Nathan James before arriving at St Louis, the Captain had mooted a Presidential Pardon for the Doctor. The Captain had contested that the Doctor didn't know enough of American law to ask for it but that it would allow everyone to save face. Everyone would know that what she did was wrong but that what she had done before that with producing the cure, and after that with producing the contagious cure, more than outweighed that. In many ways Jeffrey wished he had thought of it before then. Perhaps he could have given them some peace.

He had been surprised by the outpouring of grief from the crew of the Nathan James. But perhaps he shouldn't have been. Lord knows it must have been a horrific nine months for them. And then to have this just after they had successfully completed the mission was gut-wrenching. The crew had closed ranks around each other. He had seen the hurt when he had come aboard that first morning, from the sentry with tears in his eyes to the Captain with dried tear tracks on his face and blood on his uniform.

That Doctor Scott could engender this degree of feeling from a hard-bitten Navy crew was very moving. He regretted then that he hadn't been able to spend more time with someone who was obviously an outstanding person. At least he had had good news for the Captain on one front. The Immune who had shot Doctor Scott had been injured escaping from the hotel. He had been caught and shot by Navy and security personnel in a sweep that night. He had known the man, Curtis, from his time with the Immunes. He would _not_ be getting a pardon.

Rachel's body had lain in state aboard the Nathan James for the last four days. Now her coffin had been carried on the arms of her shipmates to her final resting place beneath the arch where the Nathan James crew had come on shore. The flags that covered her coffin had been folded up, his country's flag given to the Captain and the British flag given to the XO on behalf of the British people to whom it would be given as soon as official contact was re-established, the coffin lowered into the hole and the firing party had made their contribution. There had been a scrupulously observed minute of silence.

He looked at the people in front of him as he stepped up to the podium. There were a few hundred civilians. Transport was still difficult otherwise he knew more would be here. News had travelled fast about Rachel's death and there had been an outpouring of grief. Many of the civilians were families of the crew. To either side of the grave stood the crew of the Nathan James. The Captain, the XO, the Master Chief. They had done their bit to get everyone where they were today but now it was his turn to do his.

Jeffrey hadn't known Rachel well, but he did know Rachel Scott enough to know that she would have hated what he was about to do. But he was a career politician and the President of a country which was on the ragged edge. And he knew what his duty was. And he thought that if Rachel could understand anything about what he was about to do, she would understand duty. Because she had been all about duty.

Because his country needed a figurehead. Someone to look up to. Someone to unite behind. And Rachel Scott would be that someone. Who knew? She might have been that anyway. She and Tom. But he would make damn sure now that his country, and in fact the world, knew what it owed to her and he would make sure that Rachel Scott's name was always remembered. He owed her that.


	8. Epilogue 1: Compton

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Epilogue: Compton**

It's warm on the waterfront in St Louis, even at 06.00 on a summer morning. When Dad was alive he used to come here every year on this date if he was in town. This is the first year that he can't be here so I've come instead. Today would be Rachel Scott's 60th birthday and I know Dad would want to be here. But now he can't be and the closest I can come to him is his name on the Nathan James memorial, which sits opposite Rachel's statue, and his grave in the Nathan James section of the National Cemetery.

It's quiet here. Most of the crowds come to her grave on what is now known as Deliverance Day. The day that Dad's ship arrived at St Louis and the Contagious Cure was first spread on a major scale in this city.

But for the people who knew Rachel, that day is always bittersweet. Knowing that within a week of that day of celebration she would be dead. Murdered in cold blood by a coward.

The people that knew Rachel always preferred to celebrate Rachel's birthday. Feeling that celebrating her life was more important than celebrating her death. I think it always made them feel closer to her. I remember the first time that Dad sneaked off early in the morning to come here. He had come back much later in the day, surprised that others had had the same idea. Uncle Russell, Aunt Kara and Uncle Danny, Dr Milowsky and Bertrise had also been there and I think Dad was really surprised that it was more than just him who thought of Rachel in that way.

In later years they had made a more formal attempt at a reunion and when they all got together it hadn't just been for Rachel but for others of that beloved and tight-knit crew who died before their time, and all of the survivors made a point to be there if they were in town.

I remember when they were planning the statue of Rachel. President Michener had wanted to go for some sort of heroic bronze but Dad and Uncle Mike were vehemently against it. They argued quite strongly that that wasn't who Rachel was and she would have hated it. Many times Dad brought his work back home because he was so annoyed. In the end I think they got it just about right. The statue is stone and it commemorates the first use of the contagious cure on US soil, an event that Uncle Mike was actually present at. Rachel Scott is kneeling in front of a little girl, kissing her forehead, and you can see the lesions of the red flu on the girl's skin. It is a beautiful statue and clearly brings out Rachel's compassion and focus.

Mike always grumps about how Rachel disobeyed his orders and put their mission in jeopardy to treat the kid, but even he has to admit that if she hadn't then they wouldn't have developed the vital intelligence about the existence of the shore battery and then Nathan James would've been sunk. Every time someone (normally Sammy or Bertrise) bring this up he just grunts, smiles sadly and says that sometimes disobeying orders might be justified. But only if you're a mad Brit and you saved the world!

So, in the middle of this area is Rachel's grave and her statue, and on the right side is a heroic bronze of President Michener. It's sad that the President who commissioned the statue of Rachel here didn't live to see it erected. Dad said that Michener was a good man just trying to do his best in a bad situation. The history that's taught in our schools is that the President made some mistakes but he did the right thing in the end, and he was desperately trying to make amends by building a better country before he was murdered by traitors within his own government.

Then on the other side is the Nathan James memorial. Dad always refused to have a statue of him, although now he's dead I wouldn't be surprised if they do build one. But he was delighted to have a memorial to the ship's crew who gave so much. He always emphasised that what happened truly was a team effort and he was right behind them building a memorial to the crew that made it happen.

Time is passing and I really need to be getting back to the kids, but I wanted to come here in the quiet to think about the letter and what I should do next. I start to wander back towards Rachel's grave. Ready to place the bouquet I've brought. Dad always tried to make sure he had at least three colours in it, red for her earrings (because apparently she always wore red earrings), blue because that was the colour of the vaccine, and white because of all the snow in the Arctic. Of course, that's what he always told me. Maybe he was just being patriotic!

The letter is really why I'm here today. I found it when I was clearing out Dad's stuff. Who knew that Dad and the President of the United States were having such a robust exchange of views? Because the wording of the letter definitely suggested it was an ongoing argument.

I was really surprised because Dad had not been interested in being in the spotlight after he retired. He did what he needed to in order to get the US Navy and armed forces back on track after the war in South America and then he quit. He said he'd done enough. He was happy to teach at the Academy now and again but avoided the spotlight outside that. And after Sasha died in that car accident, he pretty much opted out of the public eye altogether.

Poor Dad. If anyone deserved a long, quiet, happy retirement it was him. But to lose Sasha and then, only a few years later, get cancer was just too much. For my poor father not to live to 70 was just beyond wrong. So now his body is buried with all the other heroes in the Nathan James section of the National Cemetery and I need to decide what to do with this letter.

There's no getting away from the fact that Dad loved Rachel Scott and everybody who was there says that she felt something for him as well, but they were obviously too duty-bound and/or weighed down by the huge weight of responsibility that they were under to do anything about it by the time that she died. But what can't be denied is that she had a huge level of respect for the crew of the Nathan James and they for her. I never heard any of the surviving crew say a bad word about her. Sure, she was exasperating, mostly if you were in a command or protection position, and Uncle Danny, Uncle Mike and Dad as well have all had a few choice words to say about her penchant for acting first and regretting afterwards. But nobody said anything bad and they were all genuinely upset about her death.

So that probably answers my question. Laying out here, alone, on this riverfront probably pretty much sucks for Rachel Scott. Dad was right. She should be buried with her shipmates. I don't know how little old Ashley Compton (née Chandler) is going to accomplish that, especially when the President of the United States seems to have other ideas. Luckily, I have some secret weapons. Uncle Mike, Auntie Kara and Uncle Danny are pretty much the most high-profile members of the surviving crew of the Nathan James and Auntie Kara is CNO. These people saved our world for God's sake. This'll be nothing to them.

The President's not going to know what's hit him!

I lay my flowers on Rachel's grave and pull out my cellphone. Time to get to work! _Don't you worry Rachel – you'll be home soon!_


	9. Epilogue 2: Slattery

_I do not own The Last Ship_

 **Epilogue part 2: Slattery**

I remember the first time we buried Rachel, we couldn't even find a Union Flag to go over her coffin. We had to make one to lie alongside the Stars and Stripes. This time it's different.

Last time, an honor guard of crew from Nathan James accompanied her coffin the short distance from the ship to her grave site. There were a few hundred spectators, mostly families of the crew.

This time an honor guard of soldiers, marines, sailors and airman from all of the US armed forces is present, as well as an honor guard of Royal Marines and sailors from _HMS Rachel Scott_ , moored out in the Mississippi river. There are also military representatives and politicians from all of the US's allies.

Over 50,000 people are here to pay their respects to the woman who is responsible for saving our world. Every inch of the route that her coffin took from its resting place under the arch at St Louis to the Nathan James section of the National Cemetery on the outskirts of the city was six-deep in people.

Now she's here finally and I surreptitiously take a sigh of relief. Kara notices and smiles at me sadly. She is standing with Danny and I today as survivors of the Nathan James, and not as CNO, because the political wrangling associated with this day cost her that job. Even though I was gutted, Kara said that it was more than worth it, and she would do it again any day of the week. Still, the President didn't come out of this very well and probably won't stand for re-election so I'm hopeful she might have a chance at a second term, because our Navy, indeed all of our Armed Forces, needs her.

I've worked with many outstanding men and women over my years with the military but there's no getting away from it that the original Nathan James crew had some of the best and what we achieved makes the rest of it pall into insignificance. And at the heart of that was Rachel Scott.

Sure, Tom gave her a platform to do what she needed to do but I truly believe that nobody else could do what she actually did. To live with the pressure of being the only scientist that could save the world, day after day for months on end…I don't know anyone else who could have functioned under that burden. And then to develop a vaccine and a cure under those conditions; that was truly amazing. And then, realising that the cure could not be distributed by normal means, to invent a contagious cure. From nothing.

There is no doubt in my mind that Rachel Scott was a genius. To know that she was also a great human being with so much compassion for others that she would risk her life for theirs is quite humbling. I told Rachel before she went off to the Vyerni that I was proud to know her. And I have continued to be proud to have known her all throughout my life. When the dust settles, Rachel deserves all the plaudits, the marching bands, the 21-gun salute, the statue, the place in history. And if she would have hated it? So what? We needed her example and we still need it today. I know she would have understood. Not liked it, but understood.

But now she's finally back where she belongs. Amongst her shipmates and I, for one, am pleased. Rachel was just as much a part of our crew as I am and she deserves to be here. That she is to be buried next to Tom is a happy coincidence and had nothing whatsoever to do with me asking poor Gene Buckman's family if it was OK if he was buried on the next row after he died in a car accident five weeks ago. If anyone asks, I will deny everything. When Kara heard she gave a snort and sketched me a salute.

I'm happy that when I die my body will lie here with those of my shipmates who died in this country. Those that went before and were buried at sea or in foreign countries are commemorated here and in other places around our country and around the world. But I know that we will all be together again. I truly believe that. I may need to hide behind Tom for a while so that Rachel doesn't kick my butt for today, but maybe I'll let Kara and Danny take all the flak and I can probably blame it on Michener for making her a martyr in the first place!

But I'm not waiting for that. I'm really happy spending my life with Katie and her grandkids, lecturing at the Academy and hanging out with my friends and the kids of my friends, many of whom, like Ashley, have become friends in their own right.

While I've been daydreaming they've finished the short service and have lowered Rachel's coffin into the ground. Now the flag party is folding up the two flags that were draped on Rachel's coffin and they pass the American one to me as the senior surviving officer of Nathan James, even though Kara is senior to me and is a serving officer. I had said Kara should receive the flag but she insisted on it being me. Said that I'd always be her XO. That doesn't stop her ordering me around of course! But I was very touched. The British flag goes to the British Prime Minister who is here for the occasion. She stands next to us and she doesn't try to stop the tears spilling down her face. I don't know if they are real or fake (she is a politician after all) but she used to be a doctor and went to university at the same time as Rachel.

As we both step back, the PM to be with her diplomats and me to be with my shipmates, Royal Marine buglers step up and play the Last Post and the crowd falls respectfully silent for two minutes. I wasn't sure about having the British marines here, and certainly playing the Last Post rather than Taps but Rachel was British and the British were quite insistent on it and there's no denying that the Last Post is hauntingly beautiful for this situation. I know there's a tear in my eye and many of my former colleagues' eyes also look suspiciously moist. Even Danny, the big and bold former Navy SEAL.

The two minutes silence is perfectly observed. You could hear a pin drop. And then the salute starts from the ships moored in the river. A trained ear can differentiate the 4.5 inch gun of _HMS Rachel Scott_ from the heavier five-inch guns of the destroyers. First to fire is _USS Nathan James_ , the third US Navy ship to bear that name, and rushed into service to make this date. Second is the _Scott_ and third the _USS Thomas Chandler_. She has been launched since Tom's death. I don't know how Tom would feel about having a destroyer named after him. I don't know how I feel because when we were discussing this Kara let slip that there's one due to be named after me after I kick the bucket. I suppose if they leave it til I'm dead it wouldn't be so bad.

I know what Rachel would say though. She would say we deserved it, both since we're in part responsible for this dog and pony show which she wouldn't have liked, but also because maybe we deserve to have destroyers named after us. Then she would have nailed us with a glare. I miss that glare. At the end of the day I miss Rachel. May she finally rest in peace.


End file.
